


To Catch a Thief

by Tales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tales/pseuds/Tales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione's things start going missing. She doesn't think it's Nargles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Catch a Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pennfana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennfana/gifts).



To Catch a Thief 

The bird watched the three human 'yearlings' from the safety of his tree overlooking the garden. There were several young females in his territory, but somehow it was _this_ human nest he found himself drawn to on those evenings when he took flight with no particular goal in mind. 

The ancient sycamore tree where he perched provided a perfect view of the territory claimed by two of the young adults, and the round-eyed female often seemed to attract particularly delicious creatures. Often she would watch the things that crawled and hopped and flittered around her, rather than paying attention to her human companions. 

The bright-headed female, who didn't share the nest, was chattering noisily as she preened the feathers of the bouncy-plumed one until they lay more smoothly against her skull. Bouncy obviously had no male to care for her properly. The bird watched Bright Head put shinies into Bouncy's plumage with an avaricious glint in his eye. 

~~~~~~~

"There's bound to be someone," Ginny wheedled. "Who's best man?" She paused with the strand of Hermione's hair which she had been twirling still in her hand and turned to Luna.

"Hmm. Oh. Rolf's cousin, Kermit. He's rather sweet, actually, and he knows ever so much about Billywigs."

Ginny's face fell and she picked up another diamanté-encrusted clip, twirled the strand of hair she was holding another couple of times and then pinned it into place.

"You could ask Ron. As a friend," Ginny quickly added when she saw Hermione's shoulders stiffen. 

"No way on earth," Hermione enunciated quietly but clearly. "If the bouquet landed anywhere near me, your Mum would be publishing the banns. No, Ron can go with his latest witch du jour. It's not as if I won't know anyone."

"It's a pity Krum went and got married."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Actually, it isn't. She's really nice and I'm glad my friend is happy."

"But he would have been convenient."

"Someone who has to get an international Portkey isn't convenient, Gin."

Luna's gaze wandered off around the garden, and she tilted her head back, pointing up at a cloud partially obscured by branches, and said, "Bunny."

Ginny shook her head, gave an indulgent smile and picked up the mirror that rested on the patio table, holding it up so that Hermione could see the Ancient Grecian style up-do she had created.

"Brilliant," Hermione said in a tone that conveyed far less enthusiasm than her word. As soon as Ginny set the mirror back on the table Hermione felt for the clips, pulling them out one by one and dropping them onto the mirror before she stood, bent over and brushed roughly at her scalp with her fingertips. When she righted herself, unruly curls stuck out in every direction. She picked up her wine glass and drank deeply from it. "Come on. The lasagne will be ready." Glass in hand, she made for the cottage's back door, and the others rose from their seats and followed her.

~~~~~~~ 

He waited until the nest's entrance was firmly blocked before he swooped down and landed on the mirror, examining his reflection for several seconds. It was a pity the flat shiny weighed too much for him to carry, but he grasped one of the precious little shinies in his beak and headed off by a roundabout route to his favourite cache site.

~~~~~~~

Hermione rifled through the contents of her bowl on the hall table. It was half-full of an eclectic mix of loose change and other bits and pieces of precisely the sort that might result from emptying pockets at the end of a working day. "Luna," she called. "Have you seen my parents' keys?"

"Why do you _need_ keys?" Luna asked as she skipped down the stairs.

"I'm supposed to borrow Mum's car to take James and Al to the swimming pool. If I try using magic to start it, I'll probably fry half the electronics."

"Have you checked the kitchen drawer?" Luna asked as she stuck her wand through the sloppy bun at the back of her head. 

"I tried a Summoning Spell. It didn't work. They're not in the kitchen drawer. They're not in any of my bags. They're not in any of my pockets. They're not on my dressing table. They're not here."

"I'll check down the back of the sofa and the armchairs just in case they're jammed somehow," Luna volunteered and wandered off into the living room.

Hermione raised a hand to push her hair back from her forehead, pausing and tilting her head back when her fingers stuck in the snarled strands. She drew in a deep breath through her nose and willed her thoughts to stillness. If she could only remember the last time she had had them.

"Maybe it's Nargles," Luna's sing-song tones carried gently through, interrupting Hermione's train of thought.

Despite herself Hermione couldn't help smiling.

"I don't think so."

Luna returned to the doorway. "Hermione, you don't misplace things or forget where you put things. Not until the last couple of weeks. You're not pregnant, are you? I read somewhere that pregnant women have memory problems."

"Not unless it's the second coming," Hermione responded, straightening as she was summoned to the cottage's front door by a pecking noise. "I haven't even had a date in two years." She opened the door and an owl swooped past her. It made a U-turn around the newel post, dropped a hamster-sized parcel at Hermione's feet and dove back out the door.

"Were you expecting anything?" Luna asked.

Hermione pulled apart the Spellotape holding the wrapping in place and tipped the contents onto the hall table. There was a diamanté hair clip, a tiny crystal otter that normally sat on her bedroom windowsill, a perfume bottle, an earring that she'd thought she had lost when she was gardening and a bunch of keys.

"What the hell!" she muttered under her breath as she peered into the empty packet in search of an explanatory note.

~~~~~~~ 

"Miss Granger, to what do we owe the honour?" Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, asked as he touched his wand to the school's gates. The chains securing them fell away, and he pushed them open far enough for Hermione to enter.

"If I said I've been missing the pleasure of your company?"

"I would be disinclined to believe you."

Hermione gave a soft little laugh. "I came to see Minerva, but that doesn't mean this isn't a welcome surprise. Aren't you meant to sit up in your office like a spider in its web and make everyone come to you?"

"You appear to be confusing me with my predecessor." The professor held one arm out to the side and gave the slightest of bows, urging Hermione into his domain.

"True." She passed through the gates and waited while Severus secured them once more. "Will we see you at the solstice?" 

"I doubt it," he answered, his tone rich with sardonic amusement. 

"I suppose there's even less point asking about Luna's wedding."

"Your assumption is correct."

"Why don't you like being around the Order?" she asked, doing her best to keep any accusation from her tone.

"I'm talking to you," Severus pointed out as they fell into step, making their way to the castle.

"I'm me, not the Order," she answered.

"And there is your answer."

"An answer that's no answer at all." Had they been standing still, Hermione might have struggled with the urge to stamp her foot. As it was, she placed a hand on Severus's elbow in an effort to get him to look at her. "Is there any chance you could put it in plain English?"

They slowed to a stop and turned to face each other. "Very well. There are a small number of order members and affiliates..." Here he gave a curt nod in Hermione's direction. "...whose company is bearable or even enjoyable in isolation. Nevertheless, as a group, I find their hypocritical politesse as grating as they find my presence. Duty no longer requires me to attend these functions and a good book would provide far more in the way of enjoyment, so why bother?"

"Because it's a chance to spend time with that small number?" Hermione suggested with a wry smile. "Luna didn't invite you to be politically correct. It isn't in her nature. You must know that."

"Miss Lovegood... is a unique case. On good days, her presence can be soothing in small doses, now that I no longer need to worry whether her daydreaming will lead to her blowing up my classroom."

"And on bad days?"

"It's hard to refrain from strangling her."

Hermione smirked and raised her eyebrows.

"Alright, Silencing her," Severus conceded.

Leaving her hand where it rested on the crook of Severus's arm, Hermione turned toward the castle again and began walking once more. "She is an acquired taste, but there's nothing two-faced about her. And it is _her_ invitation you would be refusing. She would probably understand your reluctance to come, but that wouldn't stop her being disappointed."

Severus exhaled audibly through his nose. "I will think about it."

Hermione ducked her head, pretending to watch the ground at her feet, as if that might stop her former professor from seeing her smile. "I'll expect you to save me the second dance."

"Gryffindor," Severus answered sotto voce, the first few letters almost a quiet growl. "Hopelessly Gryffindor." 

The rest of the walk to Minerva's quarters was completed in companionable silence. 

~~~~~~~

Hours later, the magpie watched from the deep shadows of the Forbidden Forest as Bouncy made her way back to the castle gates with Monster Man at her side this time. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he contemplated diving at the overgrown transgressor, but dusk was falling. He knew better than to show himself so near to the castle after dark. The hooting birds would tear him to pieces given half a chance unless he called on his human's help, and he had no intention of doing that.

No, he would content himself with watching for now and save an attack as a last resort if Monster Man were to attempt to preen the bouncy one, or, even worse, to sing to her. 

His human's last mate had died many seasons earlier, and though magpies paired for life, the bird found it puzzling that his human had not chosen a new mate from the young adults. Any lone magpie would have flocked to the annual marriage meetings to find a female with shiny plumage, bright eyes and an alluring grace in flight. 

Having found such a female he would sing for her, and if his song was pleasing to her she would become his mate for the rest of their lives. They would share a nest and raise many fledglings, who in turn would help raise the following year's chicks, but never again, unless his mate died and he was forced to take a new one, would that male sing.

His human disdained the marriage meets, but the magpie knew, even if his human didn't, that he had chosen his new mate. If Monster Man sang to her, then the magpie would peck out his eye before Bouncy could accept his advances, even if it attracted the attention of every hooting bird in the castle and every overgrown many-leg in the forest. 

~~~~~~~

Hagrid opened the gates for Hermione. "An' next time yer visitin' see if'n yer can't bring Harry an' Ron an' we'll have tea like old times. Yer can come an' see the unicorn foals."

"I'll try, Hagrid," Hermione promised, "but it's not like the boys are just down the road. And Harry doesn't get to spend that much time with Ginny and the boys."

Hagrid's arms wrapped around her in a bone-crushing hug, and Hermione held her breath as she rested her cheek against his stomach in an effort not to have the air squashed out of her. However, Hagrid released her far more quickly than was his wont. He spun on his heel and Hermione had her wand drawn and pointing in the direction he now faced about a second later.

"What—"

"Carrion eatin' mischief-maker!" Hagrid shouted, shaking a giant fist in the direction of his hut. "Damn thing pulled me hair out."

From the ridge-line of the hut a magpie was cawing raucously at the half-giant, and when Hermione looked more closely she could see it held at least twenty strands of long wiry dark hair in its claws. 

Hermione re-sheathed her wand. "I didn't know magpies did things like that."

"They don'," Hagrid muttered. "Come on, 'Ermione. Ah think Ah'll walk you back the rest of the way."

As if the bird had understood this, it flew up onto one of the winged boars that topped the gateposts and chattered all the more vociferously.

"It's alright, Hagrid. You've got baby unicorns to check up on. I'll Apparate. It can't follow me that way. Besides, it seems to be you it's taken offence to. But why do you say they don't do things like that?"

"Well, for a start it shouldn't be here. 'Part from people, owls is a magpie's worst nachural predator, an' if'n the owls don' get it, Thestrals should. An' corvids are right smart, too smart for a single bird to be makin' a ruckus like this un's makin' when there're things as would kill it soon as look ar it all aroun'."

"Corvids?"

"Crows, ravens, jackdaws, magpies an' such."

"And they don't normally attack people?"

"Nah. Don' get me wrong, a nestin' pair'll have a go at a cat if'n it comes inter their territory, swoopin' down ar it an' cawin' an' such, but a single bird wouldn' even do that."

"Hag-rid?" she asked, briefly worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth as pieces beginning to fall into place. "Is there any truth to the stories about magpies liking shiny things?"

"Can't say as Ah rightly know. Like Ah say, Hogwarts is the last place as you'd normally expect to find one. Some folks think they can see colours as people can't, though."

Hermione took a step toward the giant, going to give him one last hug before she Apparated away, but when this brought the bird hopping out onto the gates themselves and made it call even more vocally, she quickly stepped back. "Ehm, well, thanks, Hagrid. You've helped a lot."

She walked through the gates, spun on her heel and disappeared, but she didn't go back to her cottage at the other end of the village. Instead, she decided it was time to pay another visit to her parents and their computer.

~~~~~~~

Hermione tipped the packet's contents onto Molly's kitchen table.

"What would anyone want this crap for?" Ron asked.

Ginny gave her brother a clip around the ear before she took the seat between him and Bill.

"Well, it _is,"_ he complained. "They could at least have gone for the TV."

Bill picked up the crystal animal, passing his wand over it in increasingly complicated movements before setting it to one side and picking up the bunch of keys.

"You say your wards are up to spec?" Bill asked. "You don't want me to come over and check them out?"

Hermione gave a snort of amusement, her eyes meeting Ginny's. "You really think Harry would have let me and Luna live somewhere without checking out my wards? They're just this side of legal." 

"Someone got through," Harry pointed out.

"Not necessarily," Hermione argued. 

All heads turned to her.

"It's just an idea. I need to check some things."

"Those wards wouldn't let anyone other than you or Luna Summon anything from inside the house," Harry objected. 

"That wasn't what I meant," Hermione assured him. "It's just an idea, but it's a bit out there. I want to check it out some more. As long as Bill is sure my _crap_ hasn't been tampered with in any way, then I don't think we need to work this out in the next five minutes."

Harry and Ron looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "I hate it when she does that," the redhead announced.

"Don't you have a library to go to?" Harry teased.

"Very funny. Actually, I need to talk to someone at work."

"Well, we're Aurors. Talk to us," Harry tried.

"I don't need Aurors. I need Madam Witherbottom," Hermione said almost absently.

"Your boss at Beasts and Beings?"

"Ohhh!" Ron nodded sagely. "I get it. It's a house-elf."

Hermione just shook her head. After all, it wasn't any more outlandish than her own idea. 

~~~~~~~

"Madam Witherbottom?" Hermione enquired quietly after a soft knock on her supervisor's office door.

"Come in, Granger," the steely-haired matron replied. "I thought I had cured you of that hovering habit."

"Well, this isn't technically work-related. Or at least only potentially work-related on my side, but actually work-related on your side. I wondered if you could spare me some time during lunch. My lunch, I mean. If today's not convenient—"

"Just come in and sit down, you daft witch." Witherbottom eyed Hermione over her half-moon glasses. Only once Hermione was seated in a moderately comfortable leather padded swivel chair that probably dated from the Victorian era did she probe further. "Now, what's on your mind, lassie?"

"Well, it's just that I was thinking about trying to become an Animagus," Hermione proffered tentatively. Technically, this was true. She had been thinking about it ever since Professor McGonagall had transformed in front of the class in her third year at Hogwarts. "When we studied Animagi back at school, Professor McGonagall just said that anyone attempting to learn was placed under close Ministry supervision. I wondered what form exactly that supervision took."

Esther Witherbottom's eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded her subordinate, but then she gave a small nod. "Get your notebook, then. It's probably about time someone else learned how to deal with our would-be know-it-alls."

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione darted back to her desk, one of several in the outer office, returning with a thick notebook bound in dragon hide and her favourite fountain pen. "Where do we begin?"

"We begin when some over-achieving whelp — that would be you in this case — walks into our office and says they want to learn to be an Animagus." Had it not been for the almost affectionate tone in which these words were voiced Hermione might have taken offence.

"I only said I was thinking about it," Hermione protested.

"And I'm saying you won't do it by thinking about it. So I'm signing you up today, and you _will_ do it." Esther paused for a second to think. As house-elves came under the purview of Beasts and Beings, from time to time they found themselves caring for and being cared for by an elf or three whose owners' family line had petered out. They almost always managed to track down some sort of relative within a week or two, but caring for the staff members at least kept the poor things from brooding on their losses. "Mistee?" she called, ignoring Hermione's frustrated look as a round-shouldered elf popped into the office. "Miss Granger and I would like tea for two with some of those lovely biscuits of yours." 

The elf's ears rose to half-mast from being plastered against her skull. "The lemon ones, Missy Witherbottom?"

"Yes, Mistee, the delicious lemon ones. Six each should suffice," she added hastily.

"Now, the first ledger you need is _this_ one." A surprisingly small blue book soared down from the highest of Esther's bookshelves. To Hermione's dismay, the pages had been cut like those of an address book and Esther turned straight to the Gs. She wrote Hermione's name at the top of the first completely blank page. The page seemed to be split into several columns. In the first, Esther added the date. In the second she wrote 'Initial Enquiry'. In the third and widest column she wrote, _'Miss Granger is an extremely competent and determined young witch. Probability of success: high. Animagus experience could be useful if she chooses to remain with 'Beasts and Beings' rather than seeking more rapid advancement in another department. Miss Granger currently resides in Hogsmeade and may therefore be able to call upon Professor M. M cGonagall for tutoring. Suggest Patronus message at 4p.m. every day that Miss Granger and I are not both at the Ministry, unless by prior arrangement. Miss Granger will probably use all of her 'spare' time to practise until she succeeds or she falls over from exhaustion. Next review in two weeks.' _In the last narrow column, she appended the initials ESKW. Then she removed a ruler from her drawer and underscored the entire entry.

"That's it?" Hermione asked.

"Well, you have to use your common sense, I suppose." Esther passed Hermione the first cup of tea which Mistee had just brought over and nodded in the direction of the biscuit plate. "I know you're generally a sensible girl. I would hope you would have the sense to ensure your first few attempts take place in Minerva's company. Of course, they won't work, but I'm _sure_..." Here she paused to give Hermione a stern look over the top of her glasses. "...you'll let your housemate know when you're practising and she would be able to send me a message or take you to Minerva if you do get stuck. If you lived alone and were trying to learn this from books, then you would be required to advise your Ministry liaison every time you attempt the transformation and at half hour intervals until you decide to stop practising. That gets to be fun when you get stuck with some idiot whose sleep pattern runs opposite to yours."

"And as soon as I can do the transformation, I have to take the test and I get added to the Animagus register?" Hermione asked.

"Not quite, and before you get carried away, I should point out that only about one in twenty who sign up actually ever take the test. Granted, that's no guarantee that the other nineteen fail. We do try to keep an eye on any 'drop outs', but some people prefer not to be registered and unless we can catch them in the act, there isn't much we can do. Some probably end up a bit disappointed at what their Animagus form turns out to be and give up before they reach test standard. There tend to be certain glitches that are quite common until people get the transformation down pat. The most common being the loss of either clothing or wand. The test board prefers it if the candidate has enough practice not to end up standing naked in front of them."

"Has anyone taken the test recently?" Hermione finally enquired. "Since Rita Skeeter, I mean."

"No, not yet."

"Not yet?" 

"Not yet. Now, finish your tea and go make a start on that in tray of yours, and don't forget to put our next appointment in your diary."

~~~~~~~ 

"Twice in one week, Miss Granger?" The deviation the headmaster's lip made from the horizontal was tiny, but it was enough to cause Hermione to smile widely.

"Twice, so far," Hermione agreed. "I may be back here a lot more often if things work out."

"Indeed. Has Minerva developed some hitherto unnoticed allure?"

"You could put it like that, I suppose," Hermione conceded as she slipped through the gates, her gaze resting on the neatly tailored robes that concealed his chest. "It's not so much that her allure was unnoticed, though, as that it's recently become more personally relevant. Besides, for all you know, visiting Minerva might just be a cover. I might be coming here because it gives me a chance to talk to you." 

"Ah. I thought you above pandering, Miss Granger. At least when you were my pupil you preferred to use knowledge rather than untruths to gain attention."

"And I thought you above fishing for compliments, professor."

"That was not my intention, I can assure you."

"No? Well, perhaps you would enlighten me as to why I would bother to express a preference for your company, if I really don't give a damn about you one way or the other?"

"There could be a dozen reasons at which I could not even begin to guess... without further investigation."

"Alright, you impossible man! I don't imagine my meeting with Minerva will take too long. I'll come to your office after. We can have dinner and you can investigate all you want."

His hand closed around her upper arm in a tight grip that combined with her forward momentum to turn her toward him. His eyes seemed to bore down into hers with an intensity that caused her heart to match the wing beats of a hummingbird. "You're playing with fire, Miss Granger."

"I said your office, not your bedroom—"

"I do not entertain personal acquaintances in the headmaster's office, and if you are going to invite yourself to dinner, I must assume you are a _personal_ acquaintance."

"Then it's a _very_ good thing that you aren't the only one of us with an affinity for fire magic."

At this, he treated her to a curt nod. "I advise you to Floo directly from Minerva's office. It would do little for your reputation if you were seen hanging around outside my quarters." And with that he bowed slightly and turned away, leaving her alone on the path while he cut across the lawns in the direction of the lake. 

~~~~~~~

"Hermione, child, whatever's the matter?" Minerva demanded. "You look as if you _ran_ all the way here."

"Just — the — stairs," Hermione gasped in return as she bent almost double with her hands on her knees to get her breath back. "Oh, Minerva—"

"Come through to my study, get your breath back and then start at the beginning."

Hermione allowed herself to be bustled through a door and into a comfortable armchair. When Minerva pressed a glass into her hand, Hermione tipped back a generous measure of its contents before her eyes widened, her throat and nasal passages burned and she only just managed to swallow rather than spraying the alcohol down herself.

"Oh no," she muttered setting the glass down on a side table.

"It can't be that bad, girl," Minerva encouraged. "Appearances to the contrary, I wasn't born some dried up old prune."

"It's bad. It's really bad. I did a bad bad thing. A really bad thing."

"Hermione, are you going to take a breath and tell me what this bad thing is, or should I send for Poppy and get her to dose you with Calming Draught like some overwrought Hufflepuff?"

"I—" Hermione felt as if her throat had closed in on itself. She took a deep breath and decided to get the words out as quickly as possible this time. "I think I asked Professor Snape on a date." She looked up miserably at her former head of house through her fringe as if expecting a reprimand.

"And?"

"I didn't mean to. It was just this thing with stuff going missing, and Ginny's been pestering me about not having a date for the solstice party or Luna's wedding, and I had this stupid idea... I mean there was this magpie the other day but it didn't act like a magpie, but even if, say, you'd been teaching Professor Snape how to become an Animagus, then he would become a deer, right? Not a magpie, but it sort of seemed to fit. And I think maybe I wanted it to fit because when the professor didn't say no when I told him to save me a dance at Luna's wedding I realised, I really wouldn't mind dancing with him at all... Oh, Minerva!"

Minerva took a small sip from her own glass of Gillywater. "I see. So what exactly is the cause for all the panic?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Hermione screeched. "I asked Professor Snape on a date. At least I invited myself to dinner with him."

"Don't you think you should start calling him Severus, my dear?" The question was clearly rhetorical as she didn't give Hermione a chance to answer. "You asked him to save you a dance. He didn't say no. I think you can read into that that he has no objection to dancing with you. You... What did you do exactly?"

"Well, he met me at the gates again and he was sort of teasing me about coming to see you so often, so I sort of joked that for all he knew I was coming on the off chance of seeing him. Then he got all huffy and said something about me resorting to pandering and I said why would I and he said something about how I could have some secret motive that he wouldn't know anything about without further investigation or something stupid like that. So I said when I finished here I would go to his office and he could investigate all he wanted at dinner and he said he doesn't socialise in his office or something and told me to Floo straight from here and then he just walked off." Hermione took another breath and lifted her eyes from the floor.

Minerva was apparently on the verge of passing out if she didn't stop holding her breath to keep the laughter in.

"It's not funny!"

At those words Minerva broke into gales of laughter. "Hermione, what are you worried about?"

"Minerva, I invited myself. To _dinner. Alone._ With Professor Snape."

"Actually, I think you allowed yourself to be manoeuvred into inviting yourself. Very different. Now what's this about a magpie?"

~~~~~~~

Severus tugged at his sleeves as the Floo in his sitting room flared green. 

"Severus, I have your guest here." Minerva's voice spilled from the fireplace.

"She's hardly _my_ guest if you keep her with you all night."

"And if you snap at _her_ like that, she'll have more sense than to be your guest again, you miserable boy."

"Are you going to send her through or aren't you, you meddling moggie?"

"Just remember, Severus Snape, you may be headmaster now, but as far as I'm concerned, you'll always be that gangly boy and she'll always be that big-eyed mop of hair, so you better both behave or I'll knock your heads together." 

"Don't you tell—"

~~~~~~~

Hermione stumbled as she exited the Floo, and found herself gripped by her elbows. "Don't tell you what, professor?" she asked in a whisper as her gaze settled on the hands that held her and the fine black hairs that dusted their backs, and on the wrists that were exposed by his turned-up shirt sleeves.

_"You_ can tell me anything," Severus replied, lifting one hand now that she had come to a stop and using a finger to gently raise her chin until her eyes rested on his face, "though you might want to start by calling me Severus instead of professor."

"If you insist..." Her teeth caught at that lower lip before she added the address. "Severus."

As she spoke his name he broke into a smile, one that somehow warmed those dark eyes. She'd always — well, almost always — thought that Severus had a hawkishly masculine look. He carried himself with an abrupt sort of grace that implied there were tight cords of muscle under those robes, and his obvious magical power undoubtedly added to the attraction. Hermione had, nevertheless, convinced herself that it was his intelligence that drew her to him. That smile shattered her conviction, piercing her with a visceral _need_ to at once see it more often and to escape its sphere of devastation. 

She sucked in a deep breath and stepped back a couple of paces. 

And she took a double hit because seeing him in shirt-sleeves and waistcoat instead of layers of dark robes had as much impact as catching a less private man, damp from the shower, in nothing but a towel.

"Dinner, Hermione?" he asked, stepping back to indicate a linen-draped table by the windows. A glass bowl part-filled with water sat in the middle of it and several flower-shaped candles floated on the water's surface. Gilt-edged white porcelain crockery sat next to silver cutlery and crystal glassware. The lushness of the settings removed any last doubt Hermione might have had that Severus was treating this as a date. "I asked the elves to prepare something special." 

~~~~~~~

Hermione rested her back against the cottage door for several seconds before she hung up her cloak, kicked off her shoes and picked them up by their heels. She dropped them on the floor next to the living room coffee table before following the sounds of movement through to the kitchen.

"You're late," Luna remarked as she wordlessly removed another mug from one of the cupboards and dropped a chamomile teabag into it. "And happy. Are those robes new?"

"Not really. Minerva thought my work robes were inappropriate for a dinner date. By morning they'll be back to normal."

"That's a shame."

"It is."

The switch on the kettle flicked back into the off position and Luna added water to the three mugs on the counter. She lifted the two whose contents looked like beetroot juice and headed for the back door. "Coming?"

"For a bit. Just till I finish my drink."

"How's Professor Snape? Is he happy, too?" Luna continued as she placed a mug on the patio table in front of her fiancé and took a seat beside him.

"You were watching us!" Hermione accused as she gingerly tiptoed over the deck and settled in another chair. 

"The garden _is_ at the side of the cottage, and it's not as if we're blind," Luna answered sweetly while Rolf just grinned. "Besides, you've liked each other for months. Ever since he acted as translator when you did the merpeople census."

"I have not," Hermione automatically denied. "Have I?"

This time Rolf snickered. "She invited him to the wedding just for you. You know Luna." He gave an affectionate tug at a lock of her hair. "She sees these things. She would have put him at the top table if I had let her, but I convinced her you could put up with me and Xeno until the dancing started."

Hermione sighed, her hand going to the diamond and white gold pendant Minerva had insisted on lending her. It was a beautiful piece, with three round diamonds in a vertical line, smallest at the top, largest at the bottom. She slid it left and right on its serpentine chain, considering where this little revelation left her in terms of the plan she and Minerva had hatched.

If her intuition about the thief were correct, then it might just speed things along. If the magpie were a normal bird, she was no worse off. But what if the bird was an Animagus, only it wasn't Severus?

She sipped at her tea, discovering that the top layer had already cooled in the brisk twilight air. She pulled the teabag out by its string, setting it on a plate left over from Rolf and Luna's earlier meal. "Why didn't you say anything when Ginny was trying to set me up with one of her Quidditch players then?" Hermione felt as if the gourmet dinner she had just eaten had turned to lead in her stomach. What if the fact that Ginny was a former player and current promoter for the Montrose Magpies wasn't coincidence? What if Ginny had been as aggressive about selling Hermione to one or more of her Quidditch player friends as she had been about convincing Hermione? Could she discount the idea of it being someone affiliated with the team?

"Because you already knew you didn't want any of the Quidditch players," Luna answered with perfect equanimity.

Hermione gulped down the rest of her tea. Sooner the better. "I'm going to go for a bath before I turn in. I'll see you both at breakfast."

Luna rose from her chair at the same time as Hermione and gave the brunette a hug and a kiss on the cheek as she bade her goodnight. "Don't be too hard on him," she whispered. "It's a long time since you looked so dreamy."

Forty-five minutes later, Hermione's trap was in place, all except for the final vital details. She sat down at her dressing table and took stock as she sprayed leave-in conditioner onto her damp curls and brushed it carefully through. 

With two small exceptions, Severus had been the perfect date. The fact that his parting kiss after walking her back to her door had been on her hand was only marginally the lesser of the disappointments. It did seem to indicate that his interest went beyond the physical, though. The second was his refusal to be drawn on his success with the Animagus transformation.

She hadn't _really_ expected anything else. The man had taught them a completely spurious way of dealing with Dementors in their sixth-year in order to avoid showing his Patronus. It had been a matter of personal safety at the time as the doe was far too big a hint regarding his true loyalties. It was entirely possible, though, that even without the risk to his person he would have refused to disclose such a feminine totem, and he could be inclined to remain quiet about a similar Animagus transformation.

If, on the other hand, his Patronus had changed, or he was one of the extremely rare exceptions where Animagus and Patronus didn't match, he was far too much the Slytherin to admit this early in the game that he had been the scolding magpie and risk incriminating himself in the thefts. No, the culprit would have to be caught in the act. 

The spells were already in place. All that remained was the bait.

She cast a Drying Charm on her hair and took off Minerva's necklace, hanging it over a corner of the mirror, where it glinted in the moonlight. Then she removed her robe, revealing a satin cami-top and matching shorts, and hung the robe on the back of her bedroom door, surreptitiously turning the key that locked the door and palming it. It wouldn't do any harm to add mechanical measures to the magical ones already in place. Then, as was her habit, she opened the sash window a few inches.

Finally, she slid into bed and placed both the key and her wand under her pillow.

~~~~~~~

The magpie hopped impatiently from branch to branch, hoping against hope that somehow he would discover a better view into Bouncy's nest. He couldn't risk going closer until Bouncy slept, but his current viewpoint afforded him only an occasional view of her restless claws buried under her nesting material.

His gaze shifted again to the sparkling precious, carelessly hung over the preening glass. Rainbows of light spilled from the shiny stones whenever the moonlight caught it, and the memory of the bauble resting against Bouncy's flesh as she flirted with his human made it impossible to resist.

Bouncy _must_ sleep soon.

~~~~~~~

Morpheus was a reluctant visitor to Hermione's room that night. With the serotonin high of her first successful date in years combined with the expectant tension of the stake-out, her thoughts swirled from prospective lover to thief and back again, meeting all too often in the hope of them being one and the same. No surprise then, perhaps, that when she did fall into a restless doze it was to dream of a magpie, who sang to her with a song as enchanting as that of the phœnix.

The raucous cawing that awoke her was far removed from its beauty.

_"Lumos!"_ Hermione chanted as soon as she had pulled her wand from beneath her pillow. The blue-white glow from her wand tip only added to the violet illumination provided by the sheet of flames that enveloped her window, flames which would not die for at least a day.

The magpie hopped around on her dressing table, twisting its head back over its shoulder and then peering into the mirror, its tail lifted high.

"You know the rhyme, Mr Magpie," Hermione said. 

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find.

"Only this time there are no potions, no poisons and no nettle wine. There's just you and me, and I think it's time we had a little talk. Now, would you like to change back on your own, or would you prefer me to force the change?"

The magpie gave another disgruntled caw and then half-glided, half-hopped to the floor by the side of Hermione's bed. A few seconds later, it seemed to swell and twist and writhe until, at the last, it lifted its head so that the fall of long black hair parted to reveal the face Hermione had most hoped to see.

And also his bare, pale chest. Hermione's gaze darted lower still, not sure whether to be pleased or disappointed to see the black, tightly fitted trousers that seemed to be all Severus wore.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself, stalker guy?" Hermione asked, her tone amused.

"Damn it, Hermione," Severus sputtered, his wand in his gesticulating hand. "Have you no sense of self-preservation? What are you doing cornering an unknown wizard alone in your bedroom like that? I could stun you, do damn near anything to you, and then just Obliviate the whole thing from your fuzzy little head."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus. If I hadn't been able to tell it was you, you would have been Stunned before you finished the change. Now," she shifted over on the bed and patted the space she had made at one side. "Come here and talk to me." She let the light from her wand die away so that the room was lit only by the purple wall of flame and the early morning sunlight. Sliding down under the covers, she rolled onto one side and propped her head up on one arm to watch him.

He lifted a corner of the duvet slightly and then met her eyes, clearly seeking her permission.

She shrugged, but the gesture was accompanied by a small smile. She let him find a position that mirrored hers before she reminded him. "Tell me."

He reached up with his free hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "There's not much to tell. I'm sure you've guessed most of it already. You and your friends always were too good at poking around where you had no business."

Hermione gave a disapproving cough. "Who is in whose bedroom, mister?"

"Yes, well, in this particular case you probably have every right to nose around, though I believe kidnapping is a more serious crime than petty theft."

"I asked for an explanation, not a justification, Severus."

"Well, I suppose it started a year or so back. At first, as headmaster, I didn't have a minute to myself. I had to oversee the changes to the syllabi, recruit new staff, keep up with half a dozen different fund-raising programs and make sure the repairs stayed on schedule and under budget. Once things started to fall into a routine, the new members of staff didn't need coaching any more and the building repairs were finally done, I was bored.

"I took on some Potions research and some Dark Arts consultation work for the Ministry, but I suppose it had always rankled that Black and Potter and especially that Pettigrew had succeeded with the Animagus transformation whereas I had not. The rest is simply a matter of the id overcoming higher brain function. I found myself watching you. I couldn't resist stealing mementoes. Of course, a hairclip which might not even be missed amongst a dozen others was embarrassing, but I didn't worry too much. The keys, I felt I had to return."

Hermione giggled. "Minerva said it was your Animagus's way of pulling my pigtails."

Severus snorted. "She might be right," he grumpily agreed, "but don't tell her that." 

"So, the abbreviated attire?" Hermione nudged. "Is that an evil Slytherin ploy to tempt me? Is it because it's all you wear when you transform, or because you lost all those layers of robes somewhere in the process?"

"I've built up to trousers and shirtsleeves," Severus admitted, "and most of the time I keep them, but I guess it affects my concentration when some overly clever witch has just scorched my tail feathers."

"They're very pretty tail feathers."

"You should see them through my eyes, my bird-form's eyes, I mean."

"You need to apologise to Hagrid, you know."

"Yes, yes, I suppose so. I can't exactly stay incognito, now, can I?"

"There's nothing wrong with being a magpie, you know?" Hermione suggested supportively.

"Except for them being carrion eating vermin or whatever it was Hagrid called me. Minerva once told me that in some parts of Scotland they're regarded as a death omen, and a single magpie is pretty much regarded as bad luck everywhere."

"Or you could say they're faithful, they'll do whatever it takes to take care of their own, from a distance they look pretty plain and severe with all the black and white, but then when you get up close you get to see the beautiful iridescent sheen on their wings and their tails. Or it might just mean you're a Montrose supporter?"

"No," Severus responded with a shy smile. "I'd rather spend a Saturday afternoon in the pub watching the footie. Not that I get the chance very often."

"You bloke, you."

"Well, I would just as soon watch it at home with a bottle of beer, but it hardly seems worth getting Sky when I'm up here most of the time."

"I'll introduce you to Dad, then. Sky Sports and some stupidly huge TV. As long as you're not a Man. U. supporter you should get on like a house on fire."

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" he asked in an almost winsome tone, upping the wattage on that crooked smile.

"That depends. Are you sorry?"

"Given how things have worked out, I'm finding it difficult to summon up much in the way of regret."

"Me neither, so let's just call it quits. Now, shut up, and kiss me properly. None of this hand rubbish."

"Do you make a habit of inviting half-naked men who turn up at your window into your bed and playing dominatrix?"

"Not yet, but if you're interested I'm sure we could come to some sort of arrangement." She reached over and slid a hand behind his neck, drawing him into her.

As they kissed she could feel the tension in his lips, could tell that as soon as he drew back even a fraction, that smile would be there again. That, more than anything, told her she had made the right choice.

~~~~~~~

_Sixteen months later_

"Snape!"

Madam Witherbottom gave a curt nod as the candidate came to stand before the panel of three witnesses. "Would you take your Animagus form?" 

Two seconds later a sleek magpie with long green-tinted tail feathers and blue-violet wings flew from the floor onto the table behind which the panel members were seated.

"Mr McKendrick will take some photographs, and if you'll spread your wings wide, I'll measure your wingspan."

The bird obediently posed as requested for several minutes.

"Right," Madam Witherbottom added. "We've got all the information we need for our records. All you need to do is change back."

As soon as Hermione stood in front of them again, Madam Witherbottom held out her hand. "Congratulations, Snape. I still say an otter would have been useful for dealing with the merfolk, but I guess you'll just have to use Gillyweed like the rest of us."

"I know, I know. I still have my otter Patronus. This just fits for _us_ , though."

"Yes, yes. Well, go and find that husband of yours and enjoy the rest of your day off. Go and build a nest or something. Shoo."

Hermione returned to the waiting room, where Severus set aside _The Daily Prophet_ and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Together they strolled toward the clanking Ministry lifts. He didn't ask how she had done. He knew. They had both known, ever since she had first performed the preparatory meditations with him in order to determine her Animagus form. It was meant to be this way. They were meant to be together, forever.

_One for sorrow,_  
 _Two for joy,_  
 _Three for a girl,_  
 _And four for a boy._  
 _Five for silver,_  
 _Six for gold,_  
 _Seven for a secret never to be told._


End file.
